Perception of Morality
by BettyBelle
Summary: A Snow White adaptation, based on the Grimm version. Dark. Exploring the 'Wicked Queen' Cecilia, her life before Snow White, and her potential motives for murdering Snow White.
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this a year or so ago. It's not the best thing ever; in fact I'm vaguely embarassed by it, but still. Here you go, enjoy. Or don't =)

The Perception of Morality: A Snow White Adaptation

Cecilia sat on the bank of the river, her dark blue gown pulled about her knees. Her shoes, a similar colour to her dress and patterned elaborately with sapphires and diamonds, rested to her right. Her feet danced in the calm running waters of the river, gracefully pushing it from side to side.

Her hair, a wonderful rusty shade, fell below her shoulder blades, shaped in perfect loose waves. Her eyes were a breathtaking tone of blue; so bright and clear they looked as though she'd plucked them from a child's doll to replace her own. Her face was flawless; high cheekbones, a perfectly symmetrical nose, delicate pink lips. Her skin was pale and free of any freckle, mole or blemish.

Cecilia was widely acknowledged as the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom. Of course, being a Princess of said kingdom did bias this view somewhat, but even so, the most objective viewer would have had difficulty finding any woman who could surpass her beauty.

Aesthetic beauty was not her only charm, and it was hardly surprising that even at just seventeen, a man had already fallen in love with her, and she with him. The man, named Alvern, was not Royalty, but from a very highly respected family with close ties to the Royal Family. He too was held to be very handsome, with large, lively brown eyes and wavy dark blonde hair which swept over his face in a roguish fashion.

Cecilia held the silver locket around her neck close to her; it been given to her as a gift from Alvern on her birthday, and was her most prized possession. It contained a miniature portrait of Alvern on the left side, and a small mirror in the other.

"I wanted a picture of the both of us in there," Alvern had told Cecilia on the day he had given it to her, as she held the beautiful locket in her hands.

"But I didn't want a picture of you as you look now,"

Cecilia looked up at Alvern, her brow furrowed.

"You are beautiful now," Alvern reassured, "but I wanted you to know…I _want _you to know that I'll love you not just at this moment, not just as you are now, but as the days pass and as we both grow old and grey. I'll always love the person you see in that mirror."

Cecilia had told only one person of what Alvern had said to her; Neci, her oldest sister. Neci had only laughed, calling it 'incredibly soppy' and stating that she hoped to the heavens that she would never have to go through the 'ridiculous charade of romance'.

Cecilia was unaffected by her sister's cynicism. As much as she knew how dramatic Alvern's words were, she knew he was sincere, and fell even deeper in love with him.

Cecilia sighed, falling back on the grass. She had not seen Alvern in over a week, and was eagerly anticipating her dinner with his family that evening. However, though Cecilia knew the dinner was still hours away, she could not bear to wait any longer. Standing and slipping her feet, still wet, inside the navy shoes, Cecilia held a corner of her dress in her left hand and ran East, over the low wooden bridge and across the river, towards Alvern's home.

A bee flew unnoticed past Cecilia as she ran down the trodden path through a field of golden dried grass. The bee found no beauty in Cecilia, only in the landscape, the sky and the flowers. Though he had only a limited perception of beauty, he knew the perfection in his world; he saw the flawlessness of a poppy growing in a field. And perhaps he was right to prize a flower beyond Cecilia's human beauty, because a flower holds no evil. A flower may age, may wither, brown and dry, but it may never become malevolent. It has the ability only to grow, to breathe, to move with the sun. A human has the ability to show great beauty, great ugliness, or a chilling combination of both.

The large house of Alvern's family came within Cecilia's view, and she sped up slightly, slowing only once she was a few strides from the front door. She tapped the intricately designed gryphon door knocker against the light oak, and was surprised to find Alvern's mother, Mrs. Halligan, was the one to answer it.

"I saw you from the top window," she offered as explanation for answering the door herself instead of leaving such a job to a servant.

Cecilia stepped inside the house, and took a seat on a dark brown chair in the sitting room. Mrs. Halligan sat opposite her, with an expression on her face Cecilia did not recognise. Before Cecilia could ask Mrs. Halligan to speak with Alvern (though she found it odd that Mrs. Halligan had not already called for him), Mrs. Halligan spoke.

"I know you want to see Alvern, but I must speak with you urgently,"

Cecilia was now extremely concerned. She opened her mouth, but Mrs. Halligan held her hand up and continued.

"It is very important that you listen to everything I have to say before you speak. Oh, I do wish Mr. Halligan could be telling you this, but under the circumstances…" She trailed off, looking towards the many rings on her left hand which lay folded neatly on her lap.

"A week ago, Alvern and his father went on a hunting trip. It was early evening when they left, but the sky was dark with storm clouds. Alvern wanted to break in a new horse, Whiskey. Mr. Halligan warned him of the storm, of course, but Alvern insisted; said Whiskey should learn to handle storms. Mr. Halligan accompanied him in case he needed any assistance," Mrs. Halligan sighed, and when she next spoke, her voice seemed weaker.

"As you may remember, the storm of that evening was quite severe. Any thoughts of hunting quickly disappeared. Mr. Halligan wanted to turn back, but Alvern said the horse was coping wonderfully, and he wanted to ride her for just a little longer. Alvern ran Whiskey through dozens of fields, and the rain came down so heavily that Mr. Halligan lost sight of Alvern. He called for Alvern, but his voice hardly carried a few feet before him. When the rain let up slightly, which was not for an hour or so, he found Alvern laying face down in the mud, Whiskey long since vanished,"

Cecilia gasped at this, taking sharp hold of the arm rest with her right hand.

"Mr. Halligan took Alvern onto his own horse, and took him back home. He was in dreadful shape when he arrived; soaked to the skin, freezing cold, with a vicious cough. We took him straight to bed, of course, lit a large fire in the grate, bought him a change of clothes and some hot soup. The next morning, he didn't seem much better. He spoke once; said that Whiskey had been frightened by lightning striking the ground ahead of them. Alvern had been thrown from her back. He had tried to stand, but a terrible pain in his back kept him from moving. He couldn't remember much else until he was pulled onto his father's horse," Mrs. Halligan took a shaky breath, plucking a handkerchief from her sleeve and resting it over her eyes for a few moments.

"We…we called for a doctor. He arrived the following morning. Alvern had developed a fever. Dr. Goodrick said we'd just have to wait for the fever to break; there was nothing he could do. We wanted to tell you, but Alvern refused, said he didn't want you to worry, and he'd see you once he was well-"

"Can I see him? Is he still sick?" Cecilia said, tired of listening to Mrs. Halligan's long-winded explanation.

Mrs. Halligan opened her mouth to speak, but instead burst into tears.

"He's dead, Cecilia! He died last night!"

A few minutes of confusion clouded Cecilia's mind, and when it cleared, she found herself on the floor, screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

The days passed slowly for Cecilia, each identical to the last. Her beauty never faded, but it became an altered beauty; sad, dark, lonely. As she reached the age of twenty seven, she felt her parents' desire for her to marry. Her four siblings were already married or engaged, and she was by no means the youngest.

Though Cecilia knew she would never love again, she also realised that she could not remain unmarried much longer. She was becoming a burden, and in any case it was not appropriate for a member of the Royal family to remain a spinster. She told her parents that she would consent to marry any man they saw fit.

Her parents were confidentially delighted with Cecilia's decision, and began searching for a suitable husband immediately. Only a few weeks after beginning their search, news reached the couple that King Dubhán of Leicothé was in need of a wife.

"It is quite excellent news! He is the perfect husband for Cecilia! His first wife died quite tragically last winter, giving birth to their daughter. Snow White is her name, and they say she is the most beautiful child in Leicothé! She is of course in need of a mother, I told him Cecilia would be a wonderful stepmother; she does love the children of the courtiers so!" Queen Iantha rambled to her husband one summer morning as a maid brushed her long brunette hair.

"Yes, yes, quite excellent," King Bylun replied vaguely, having heard the same anecdote several times.

"I hope our messenger can reach King Dubhán swiftly! I sent him off immediately, but he does seem to take such a long time to travel any distance. Why, just a fortnight ago I sent him to Renieyn, he took almost five days to arrive! That is but three day's journey, even for the slowest horse! He of course insists he rides as speedily as he is able, but I cannot help but suppose he makes a few unnecessary stops along the way-"

"Iantha, do stop your gossiping, I imagine your maid is quite exhausted from that ceaseless babble in her ear. I must meet my Chief War Advisor, but do please try to calm yourself before supper," King Bylun said wearily, closing the intricately carved mahogany door to the magnificent bed chamber.

Queen Iantha paused, her mouth slightly agape, before declaring indignantly "Well, that was quite discourteous! I hardly think that fictitious conjecture was necessary. He has simply no sense-"

The maid rolled her eyes behind Iantha silently. She privately agreed with King Bylun, but of course could not disclose this opinion.

"Oh! My deepest apologies, Your Majesty!" Exclaimed the maid, having brushed Queen Iantha's hair rather roughly, jerking her head back suddenly.

"That is quite alright, no harm done," Queen Iantha said quietly, rubbing the back of her neck, though afterwards spoke only occasionally until the maid had finished dressing her.

"You look wonderful, Your Majesty," The maid said as she finished painting Queen Iantha's lips a deep red.

Queen Iantha nodded wordlessly, and examined her reflection in the large mahogany mirror. The mirror revealed not only Iantha's refined beauty, but the glorious room behind her.

The walls were painted a rich burgundy, with curving floral designs in a darker shade covering every inch of space. Gold coving separated the walls from the masterpiece on the ceiling; an incredible painting of cherubs, angels and all amount of holy deities on a soft white and beige background, each being painted as accurately and meticulously as the last. It had taken the artist many, many years to complete, and had been painted more than one hundred years before the current occupants of the room had been born, but it still held all the intensity and vividness it had on the day the last brush stroke had been made.

The floor was made of the same dark wood as the furniture in the room, and was varnished to perfection. A red carpet rested in middle of the room, leading to the double doors which King Bylun had just exited.

"You may leave me now, Henrietta," Queen Iantha said softly to the maid's reflection.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the maid curtsied and left the room.

Queen Iantha continued to stare into the mirror on her dresser. She pressed her face closer to the glass, rising from her velvet chair until she was close enough to steam the mirror with her breath.

Iantha examined every wrinkle, every blemish and freckle on her aging skin. Even the vast amount of powder the maids used on Iantha's face could not hide the signs of her fifty three years. Her beauty was fading, and Iantha could not help but feel a part of her soul was disappearing with it. A beauty that had been such a large part of her life; a beauty without which she would never have become Queen.

A gentle knock at the door caused Queen Iantha to turn away from the image of loss.

"You may enter," She called to servant standing on the other side. The servant opened the door obediently, and looked to Queen Iantha, who sat at her dressing table, her hands folded carefully in her lap.

"Your Majesty, Talbott has arrived with a message from King Dubhán," The servant told her.

"Oh! Well, send him in immediately!" Queen Iantha replied, her hysterical state once again restored.

The servant bowed and left the room. A few moments later, a brown-haired man with an idle air entered, neglecting to close the door behind him. Queen Iantha ignored this, anxious to hear news from King Dubhán.

Queen Iantha waited for Talbott to speak; however, his mouth remained closed, and his eyes moved lazily around the room.

"Well? What message does His Majesty send?" Said Iantha when she could bear his silence no longer.

"Kind Dubhán sends his warmest regards. He is delighted at the prospect of marrying your most enchanting daughter, and would be honoured to meet the fine lady just as soon as it may be arranged," Talbott recited.

Queen Iantha clapped her hands together and grasped her chest, as though the mere dictation of King Dubhán's words caused her heart to flutter.

"Wonderful! We must invite him to dine at the palace at once! Please head back to Leicothé without delay, and inform His Majesty that we would be most delighted to receive him as our honoured guest on the 21st for our midsummer banquet!"

"Very well, Your Majesty, I shall depart as swiftly as I am physically able," Talbott replied with a sarcastic undertone which Queen Iantha failed to recognise. Talbott bowed and left the room, heading for _'The Blue Phoenix'_ public house (his promise of a quick departure knowingly ignored).

Queen Iantha was in much higher spirits than she had been before the messenger arrived. Iantha could think of no better news than that King Dubhán may marry Cecilia, her only unwed child. She hoped he was a pleasant man; above all, she wanted her children to be secure and contented. Iantha would have given the entire kingdom to bring Alvern back for Cecilia; but of course she could not, and only hoped King Dubhán could bring back some of the sparkle Iantha had once seen in Cecilia's sapphire eyes. Eyes that now held a sadness which caused Iantha's heart to break each time she looked in them.

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I know, they all have annoying names, right? I don't know what posessed me, except the idea that 'theyz is in da past, LOLZ!'.

Haha, ok, it's not that bad, is it? I mean, at least 'Cecilia' is normal! And be fair, it's better than calling a kid Snow-bloody-White. That's a cat's name.


	3. Chapter 3

The arrival of King Dubhán caused great excitement in the palace. Queen Iantha came close to hysterics several times a day, to the great annoyance of her ladies-in-waiting and any servant who did not complete a task in the way Queen Iantha desired.

Cecilia found the fuss that surrounded King Dubhán's visit deeply irritating, and spent much of her time with her lady's companion, Miss Safiyya Adelhard. Safiyya had been hired when all of Cecilia's sisters had married and left the palace. Cecilia had refused to spend any large amount of time with her mother, and so Safiyya had been appointed to provide company for Cecilia.

"But do you not believe that King Dubhán will be a good man?" Safiyya asked. She and Cecilia were sat on the balcony of Cecilia's bed chamber, material in their laps on the pretence of practising their embroidery.

"It is not that. I…Oh, Safiyya! I simply do not care one way or another! As long as it pleases my mother and father, I will agree to it,"

Safiyya sighed. She wished dearly to tell Cecilia to snap out of this melancholy state, but it was not her place to say such things.

A knock sounded on the bed chamber door.

"You may enter," Cecilia called dully through the room.

A servant stepped through the door. "Your Highness, King Dubhán will be arriving shortly, and the Midsummer celebration banquet will begin at 5 O'Clock. Her Majesty Queen Iantha requests that you begin preparing yourself. Your maids have been sent for."

Cecilia sighed "Very well,"

Cecilia left her embroidery on the seating on the balcony, and sat at her dresser. Safiyya followed her inside, closing the French windows. She seated herself at a chair a few feet from Cecilia, and spoke softly with her while her maids dressed her.

The banquet was, in Queen Iantha's opinion, a splendid success. King Dubhán was a pleasant, humorous man who had aged very well. Snow White, only 7 months old, was cooed over by every lady courtier at the banquet, and it was agreed numerous times that she was indeed the most beautiful baby in the kingdom.

In Cecilia's opinion, the King was likeable man, though perhaps slightly old for her.

It was quite clear where Snow White got her name; her skin was exceptionally pale. She had jet black hair, clear blue eyes, rosy cheeks and deep red lips. Cecilia felt there was something quite unnatural about a child who looked as Snow White did.

Cecilia and Dubhán courted for several months before he proposed. Cecilia reluctantly accepted, and a lavish marriage in Leicothé followed, to which every prestigious family in the neighbouring kingdoms was invited. The wedding was conducted in the most magnificent church in Leicothé, with only relations of the bride and groom allowed within the building.

The reception, however, was open to all high-class families that could attend. It was conducted in the vast grounds of Leicothé Palace, and had all manner of entertainment – jesters, mimes, cock-fighting and a grand stage on which plays were conducted during the evening.

There were great tables covered in white linen, filled end to end with plates of food. A large space was set out for dancing, with a small band playing throughout the reception.

The reception did not finish till late into the night, when the reception was formally ended and the bride and groom were allowed to return to their new home.

"Here, I have a wedding present for you," King Dubhán told Cecilia after they had left the reception.

"Oh? What is it?" Cecilia questioned curiously.

Dubhán handed Cecilia a flat, rectangular object wrapped in green silk and tied elaborately with a blue ribbon. Cecilia carefully untied the ribbon with her manicured nails. The silk fell away to reveal an amazing mirror. The deep blue frame was intricately carved with a repeating leaf pattern. The mirror was so sharp and clear. It glittered mysteriously, and seemed somehow deeper than normal mirrors.

"My goodness…this is beautiful," Cecilia whispered in awe.

"Look, you can hang it here," Dubhán said, placing it on a nail at the back wall of their bed chamber.

"It really is a wonderful mirror," Cecilia said softly.

"That is not all. You have forgotten something," Dubhán said, looking toward the silk wrapping left on the chair in which Cecilia had been sitting.

Cecilia stepped over to the silk to see a note within the folds. She picked it up and read aloud,

"Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall,

Who in this land is the fairest of all?"

To Cecilia's great surprise, a smooth, genderless voice from the mirror replied immediately,

"Thou, o Queen, art the fairest of all."

King Dubhán smiled.

"The mirror is enchanted. It speaks only the truth," He told her.

"Well…that is…certainly...an interesting piece," Cecilia stuttered. As pleasant as it was to hear that she was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, there was something quite unnerving about the speaking mirror. She had seen enchanted objects before; magic was not an unusual practice, but this left her feeling sick to her stomach.

"Every morning, you shall stand before this mirror, and you shall ask 'Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all?' and you shall hear its reply," King Dubhán declared.

And so it was – each morning, after the King and Queen had been dressed and breakfasted, Cecilia would ask,

"Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall,

Who in this land is fairest of all?"

And the mirror would invariably reply

"Thou, o Queen, art the fairest of all."

During this, King Dubhán would stand behind Cecilia, and would smile each time the Enchanted Mirror gave its answer.

Many years passed, and little changed in Leicothé Palace, except for two things.

The first was that Snow White grew into a very beautiful, if slightly guileful sixteen year old.

The second was that Dubhán, who had always been known by close friends to be an irritable man, developed an even shorter temper, and had reduced no fewer than twelve maids to tears over trivial matters in the past month.

Dubhán's friends privately agreed that the cause of this anger was the loss of his first wife, and the realisation that as beautiful and charming as Cecilia was, he did not love her in the same way.

Snow White, the perfect angel to her father, treated Cecilia with veiled contempt. She had called Cecilia 'mother' all her life, and treated her well, but her attitude changed when she was told that her real mother had died during childbirth.

She still called Cecilia 'mother', but in such a way as to suggest that she had no warm feelings towards her whatsoever. She spent every free moment with her father, and during any time she had to spend with Cecilia would relate every task to her mother in a sad, wistful tone ("Oh, we are sewing? My mother did love that so…"), though she of course had no recollection of what her mother had liked and disliked.

It pained Cecilia greatly to feel such hate from a girl she had brought up as her own daughter, but Snow White felt her anger was justified. Why should she love this impostor, who had knowingly tricked her into believing she was her real mother? How could Cecilia truly love her when she had let Snow White live a lie for sixteen years? Cecilia was nothing, a cheap imitation of her true mother, a fact that Snow White was going to make sure Cecilia never forgot.

One bright September morning found Cecilia standing at the Enchanted Mirror, asking the same question she had asked for 15 years.

"Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall,

Who in this land is fairest of all?"

King Dubhán stood behind her, smiling expectantly. However, that morning, the Enchanted Mirror gave an answer that froze Cecilia's heart.

"Thou art fairer than all who are here, lady Queen.

But more beautiful still is Snow White, as I ween."

Cecilia's eyes darted to Dubhán's reflection, and the furious expression on his face made her sick with fear.

Dubhán stepped forward agonizingly slowly, each powerful step echoing on the marble floor.

At length he spoke, his face mere inches from Cecilia's face, which was still turned to the Enchanted Mirror, unable to take her eyes from Dubhán's reflected face.

"You…you STUPID WENCH!" Dubhán screamed, striking Cecilia hard across the face.

"The only thing you're good for, and now you can't even do that. I do not want to see your revolting face for the rest of this day!" Dubhán spat at her.

Casting her one last look of repulsion, King Dubhán left the room in quick strides, slamming the double doors shut behind him.

Cecilia stood in the same spot, her face turned to the right, eyes fixed on the floor.

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Er, yeah. I'm taking the mirror's little ditties straight from the Grimm story, so the fact that they barely rhyme is not my fault.

By the way, anyone who sniggered at the phrase 'cock-fighting' - you're a childish, childish person. I would never laugh at such immature double-entendre.


	4. Chapter 4

She told no one of the incident, though her maid of course noticed the bruise on her cheek when she dressed her the following morning. The maid guessed that the bruise had been caused by King Dubhán, but would never dream of mentioning such accusations.

The next few days followed the same pattern; the Enchanted Mirror would always reply that Snow White was the most beautiful in the land, enraging Dubhán. He would not always hit Cecilia, but his harsh, brazen words could do equal damage.

The days turned into months, and the mental health of Cecilia deteriorated considerably. She became even more withdrawn and insecure than before. She also developed an obsession with even numbers, insisting that everything was in equal quantities; she purchased two of every gown, wore two of each item of jewellery (even necklaces), and insisted the Cook count each vegetable she placed on Cecilia's plate to ensure an even amount, believing something terrible would happen if they were not even.

Cecilia realised that Dubhán's treatment was causing her to fall ill, but could see no escape. Divorce was out of the question; it was against all bible teachings, would be a huge disgrace to the Kingdom, and in any case would never be agreed to by Dubhán.

She could not confide in anyone; her only friend, Safiyya Adelhard, had been dismissed upon her marriage to King Dubhán, and Cecilia knew the ladies of this palace to be foolish gossips who would have not an ounce of good advice to give her between them.

Cecilia had given up hope almost completely, but for a casual remark Snow White had aired upon an afternoon spent practicing the piano.

"My mother, of course, was the most beautiful woman to have ever lived," Boasted Snow White, "But, of course, that beauty is gone now, never to be seen again…"

At this moment, a thought struck Cecilia. A thought that was so sinister, so dark and malicious that all other thought ceased. She stopped playing the Piano immediately, staring blankly at the keys.

"Mother? Is there something the matter?" Snow White enquired, believing Cecilia had been wounded by the implication that she would never be as beautiful as Snow White's mother.

"I actually think I feel rather unwell. Perhaps we should end our piano rehearsal for today, and I shall rest in my Bed Chamber for a while," Cecilia said shakily, and indeed she looked quite pale.

"Oh, well of course. I do hope you feel better, mother," Snow White said, with false concern. She was, in truth, rather pleased, and hoped this sudden sickness (if it was genuine) would last for at least a week, if not more.

Cecilia went directly to her Bed Chamber, as she said, but did not rest in her bed. She instead began to form a plot; a plot that would perhaps save her from Dubhán's torturous treatment forever. A plot to murder Snow White.

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Ridiculously short chapter. I suck at deciding where to break them up.


	5. Chapter 5

Word of warning, slightly gruesome description of an animal being cut up. Nothing major, I don't think, but not nice if you're squeamish.

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Cecilia awoke the next morning with a plot formed completely in her chaotic mind. She was dressed and breakfasted, went through the daily ritual with the Enchanted Mirror; Dubhán did not hit her that morning, merely giving her a look of utter disgust and threw all the vulgar words he could muster at her.

Cecilia then called for a hunter. A bewildered maid complied with the request, and soon a man named Byrne arrived in the drawing room, in which Cecilia sat.

"First, sir, you must give your word that not one syllable of this conversation will find its way beyond these doors," Cecilia told the hunter.

"I give my word, Your Majesty. I would never betray the trust of the Royal Family," the hunter replied instantly.

"Very well. Hunter, I can no longer stand to have Snow White in my sight. You will take her to the forest, and there you will kill her. You will bring me back something to prove that you have done this task," Cecilia said. Her chair way faced away from the hunter, but he nodded to the back of her seat.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Byrne bowed and made his exit.

Cecilia kept her eyes fixed on the view outside the window, gripping the arms of the chair tightly. She had just ordered her daughter to be killed. It frightened her that she was capable of such a callous act, but what frightened her more was the voice deep within Cecilia's consciousness that whispered _she deserved it, the selfish, ungrateful harlot._

Byrne walked out into the Palace grounds, spotting Snow White in the rose garden.

"Good Morning, Your Highness. His Majesty requests that I escort you to the forest, as he would like you to pick some wild flowers for Queen Cecilia's Birthday," Byrne lied easily.

Snow White turned to him with slight suspicion "Who are you?"

"I am Byrne Williamson, one of the finest gardeners in Leicothé. King Dubhán specifically requested that I help you to select the best flowers in Leicothé Forest,"

Snow White swallowed the lie without further enquiry. Byrne lead her deep into the forest outside the huge palace grounds to a clearing in which hundreds of wild flowers grew. Snow White sat on the ground, half-heartedly picking a few daisies from the grass.

Byrne pulled a knife from his belt, moving slowly and soundlessly until he was a few steps behind her. He bend down slightly, and leaned over the girl, his breath shallow but rhythmic. Snow White moved her head slightly, and he paused; she turned back to the flowers again, and he bent still lower, the knife held poised in his right hand.

The call of a nightingale sounded close behind him, Snow White turned her head suddenly to the noise, and screamed as the knife glinted menacingly at her.

"Please don't hurt me! Please! I'll run away, I'll never return, but please don't kill me!" She sobbed, the first honest words to leave her lips in many months.

Byrne looked upon her beautiful, tear-stained face, and could not bring himself to plunge the knife into her heart.

"Go, then. Run!" Was all he said, and Snow White obeyed, stumbling away from the clearing into the dark depths of the forest.

Just as Byrne begun to wonder how he would prove he had killed Snow White, a bear cub came cautiously into the clearing, failing to notice the hunter. Byrne grabbed the animal, slitting its throat cleanly. He then turned the animal over and ripped open the small chest, exposing the ribcage and inside, the glistening organs. Breaking open the ribcage, Byrne extracted the large, brown liver. He wrapped it in a cotton handkerchief and carefully placed it in his brown shoulder-bag.

Leaving the body to decay in the woods, Byrne returned to the palace and entered the Kitchens. He gave the liver to the top cook, telling her that Queen Cecilia had requested liver for her dinner that evening. He then left the palace, the corners of his lips turned up in a satisfied grin.

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Er, the animal bit was a bit rubbish wasn't it? Re-reading it, I just think it sounds a bit stupid. Oh well, I'm not bloody changing it now. So there.


	6. Chapter 6

Cecilia tensely counted the peas on her plate. Certain that there were twenty two, she relaxed and began to eat. Liver was not one of her favourite meals; not that it mattered, she did not have much appetite in any case.

Half-way through her dinner, a steward made his way to the table, and whispered discreetly to Queen Cecilia,

"I am sorry to disturb your dinner, your majesty, but a man calling himself Byrne wishes to speak with you urgently,"

Cecilia nodded and excused herself from the table. King Dubhán had not yet realised Snow White was missing, having accepted Cecilia's story that she had gone for a long walk in the fields (the opposite direction to the forest in which she actually dwelled).

The hunter stood outside the dining hall, shuffling his feet impatiently. Cecilia led him to a more private corner, and making sure no servants were eavesdropping, asked,

"Have you done as I requested?"

"I have, Your Majesty," The hunter replied, his voice seemingly full of guilt.

"And have you proof that this deed has been done?" Cecilia enquired further, her own voice betraying no emotion.

Here, Byrne paused "I have…brought something of the girl's," he said vaguely.

"Yes? And where is this enigmatic item?" Cecilia said edgily.

It seemed as if Byrne had arrived at the point in the conversation he had been most eager to reach, as he could no longer cover a malicious grin.

"You have just eaten it, Your Majesty,"

Cecilia realised immediately what he was referring to, and her stomach heaved. She rushed herself to the bathroom, leaving Byrne to quickly escort himself out of the palace, before he found himself thrown out.

Cecilia returned, at length, to the dining hall. Her face was much paler than usual, and she refused to eat any more.

The next morning, Cecilia stood before the Enchanted Mirror. She felt much better than she had the previous evening, and felt relieved that Dubhán would, at last, be receiving the answer he desired from the mirror.

"Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall,

Who in this land is fairest of all?"

But to Cecilia's horror, the Enchanted Mirror replied,

"Oh, queen, thou art fairest of all I see,  
But over the hills, where the seven dwarves dwell,  
Snow White is alive and well,  
And none is so fair as she."

"What?! What is this that the Mirror claims? Snow White lives with seven dwarves?!" King Dubhán stormed out of the room while Cecilia stood completely motionless, her breath short and panicked.

Not only had the hunter lied to Cecilia, but it was quite likely that Dubhán would discover her plot; he would surely send people out to look for Snow White, and if they found her…

While the palace staff were busy dealing with a furious Dubhán, Cecilia opened her enormous wardrobe and picked out a long black cloak. She then began to rip the material until it looked old and ragged, and pulled it on. She then painted her face and powdered her hair until her face was that of an elderly woman. She opened the drawer in her dresser which held her stay-laces. Pulling a few of the prettiest out, she set them out neatly in a small wicker basket.

As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of herself in the Enchanted Mirror. She looked exactly as she had intended; an old peddler-woman bearing only a passing resemblance to Queen Cecilia, second most beautiful woman in the Kingdom of Leicothé.

Cecilia headed out of her bed chamber using the servant's stairway, so that she would not be seen. If the palace staff had already begun searching for Snow White, they would have started at the opposite end of the palace grounds, the place Cecilia claimed Snow White had gone the night she had disappeared. She would not be spotted entering Leicothé Forest.

The forest trees grew close together, causing the forest to be dark and foreboding. Cecilia had no idea where to begin searching for the home of these fabled seven dwarves, and so walked in as straight a line as she could, trying her best not to imagine the awful creatures waiting for her in the depths of the wood.

Eventually she came upon an opening in the woods, and between some hills a small cottage sat, with smoke rising from the chimney. She walked toward the house, and as she neared could hear the unmistakable sound of Snow White singing softly. Cecilia checked that the cloak covered her head and began to hobble her way to the cottage door, hunched over slightly.

"Pretty things to sell! Beautiful stay-laces of many colours!" She called in a low, rough voice.

Snow White opened the thick, bolted wooden door of the cottage.

"Let me see these stay-laces, my good woman." She said, and Cecilia stepped inside the house, pulling a deep green silk stay-lace from her basket. Her eyes darted quickly around the small, stone drawing room as Snow White examined the stay-lace; there appeared to be no one in the house apart from the girl.

"Oh, it is beautiful! I must buy one!" Snow White gushed.

"Would you not like to see what it would look like on first? Here, I will help you." Cecilia said, pulling the stay-lace onto Snow White's thin frame.

She then pulled the strings quickly and tightly, putting them into a hard knot. Snow White gasped for breath and stepped away from Cecilia, her hands fumbling with the strings. The rosy colour of her cheeks spread and grew, as her entire face became deep red. Finally, her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell down onto the flagstone floor, unconscious.

"You were the most beautiful." Cecilia whispered to herself. She checked that the hood of her cloak fully covered her face and then left the miniature cottage. If anyone had looked in to Cecilia's eyes at that moment, they would not have seen the vibrant blue for which they had once been famed, but a cold, cloudy colour; dull and spiritless.

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Notey-notey-note: All the 'ways to kill Snow White' are from the Grimm Brothers version. I tried to make them a bit more believeable, but no 'OMG, That wouldn't work!' nonsense, please. It's a fairy tale for a reason. And that reason is; it makes no sense.


	7. Chapter 7

When she reached the palace she headed for her bed chamber, hoping that nobody had yet come looking for her.

Only five minutes after she had changed from her strange attire and put her stay-laces back in their drawer, King Dubhán strode into the room. His anger was only slightly less ferocious than it had been that morning, and it swelled again upon seeing Cecilia.

"She has vanished! We have been searching all afternoon for these cursed 'dwarves' and have found no clue as to their location! I do not understand why she has decided to run off," He appeared flustered, pacing around the bed chamber in front of Cecilia's dresser.

"You haven't said anything to cause her to behave like this, have you?" He accused suddenly, looking toward her.

"I have no clue why she should be acting this way. How far did you search?" Cecilia said evasively, quickly changing the subject.

"We have searched at least three miles east and north! I have called off the search for today; it is far too humid to be walking over miles of field. We will start again at dawn…"

King Dubhán continued, but Cecilia was no longer listening. Her eyes kept returning to the Enchanted Mirror. She needed to check, she needed to know before tomorrow.

After dinner, when Dubhán had left to meet with his advisors on the most efficient way to search for Snow White, Cecilia stood in front of the Enchanted Mirror, and asked the question which forever tormented her. Yet again, the mirror replied:

"Oh, queen, thou art fairest of all I see,  
But over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell,  
Snow White is alive and well,  
And none is so fair as she."

Cursing to herself, Cecilia sat on the edge of her bed. She had no choice but to think of another way to kill Snow White; if she was found now, she would tell King Dubhán that Cecilia had attempted to murder her. Cecilia would then be arrested, trialled and executed before she could say 'incitement'.

Finally, the answer came to her. She must use what had caused all her problems in the first place; magic. It was not uncommon for the higher classes to be taught basic potion-making, and she had excelled in the art of producing poison. A plan began to form in her mind, and her racing mind relaxed. Once Snow White was gone, she would be safe; everything would be fine.

Dubhán did not force Cecilia to stand in front of the mirror and ask that dreaded question the following morning; too busy organising the search for his daughter. As soon as he had left, Cecilia went down to the dark, unused cellar underneath the kitchens. She brought down a large pot, a hair comb, wood for a fire, and the ingredients she would require for her poison. She would only have the moments when the kitchen was not in use, but she could think of no other place in which she could keep the potion a secret.

Cecilia sat on the hard floor, striking two pieces of flint against each other while attempting to rationalise her behaviour to herself. There was no other way, not now. She had passed the point at which she could return to her normal, if tormented existence. This was everything to her now; it had taken over her world.

It was just turning from late afternoon to early evening, three days after she had begun to make the poison, as she dipped the golden comb into the amber liquid. It had much sharper teeth than a normal comb, and would slip easily into the skin on Snow White's head.

Cecilia disguised herself again, this time as a younger woman in a deep red cloak. She tied up her hair and placed a long, blonde wig on her head (borrowed from a female courtier who had, unfortunately, been completely bald since sixteen).

She returned to the little cottage in the forest, and crept up to the tiny window on the left side of the door. Snow White was standing close to the glass, cleaning dishes in the stone sink. Praying that Snow White would not recognise her, Cecilia walked out in front of the window and promptly collapsed, crying out in pain. Snow White quickly ran out of the house, pulling Cecilia up by the arms

"Oh, you poor woman! You must have fallen over a tree root! I do hope you are alright,"

Cecilia looked down, pretending to brush the dust from her velvet cloak.

"Oh, I am quite fine, thank you. You are most kind; I must give you a gift for your troubles,"

Snow White of course politely declined the offer, but Cecilia insisted. It did not take much to convince Snow White once she had seen the fine comb Cecilia was offering.

"Here, let me show you how well this fine comb will brush your beautiful hair," Cecilia said, slipping the teeth of the comb into the flesh on Snow White's head.

The poison took affect immediately, and Cecilia stood for a moment over the body of Snow White. Faintly, she could hear the sound of boots in the distance. Thinking of the seven dwarves that the mirror claimed Snow White lived with, Cecilia ran back through the forest to Leicothé Palace.

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Lmao, what was I on when I wrote this? I can't even remember writing half of this stuff, like the bald courtier. Haha.


	8. Chapter 8

This time she walked straight to the Enchanted Mirror in her bed chamber.

"Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall,  
Who in this land is the fairest of all?"

The voice, now full of mockery and malice in Cecilia's mind, said,

"Oh, queen, thou art fairest of all I see,  
But over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell,  
Snow White is alive and well,  
And none is so fair as she."

Cecilia trembled with rage. She had to do something, anything else; something final. This was no longer about Dubhán's abuse, or what Snow White would say if she were found; this was a battle in Cecilia's own mind. She no longer knew why she must kill Snow White, only that she would risk anything, even her own life, to do so.

Cecilia went out to the apple orchard of the palace, and picked an apple from the finest tree; on it grew the prized red-and-white apples for which Leicothé was famed. She picked a few from the other trees and placed them in a small basket. She then crept down the stairs of the kitchen cellar. The poison still bubbled steadily in the pot. Cecilia knew that the poison was effective, but it had perhaps been too weak, placed only on the teeth of a comb; not enough had entered her body to kill her. However, if Snow White were to ingest the poison, it would not be possible to revive the girl.

Cecilia dipped the red cheek of the apple in the liquid, carefully avoiding the white. She then placed the apple next to the pot and stole up the cellar stairs before any kitchen staff should discover her.

That night, Cecilia lay awake. She imagined her life, had Alvern survived; she would have married him, perhaps lived in one of the many properties her family owned. She imagined the children they may have had; beautiful, mischievous, carefree. She wondered if she would have remained as untroubled as she had been before Alvern died. She wondered if she would have stayed good and happy, or if the evil with which she now acted was always buried deep within her. Is evil something you are born with, or do circumstances dictate how good or evil you are?

The morning dawned dull and grey. Dubhán left immediately to talk with advisors. The palace staff had searched for days and still had no clues as to Snow White's location. Cecilia had slyly suggested that perhaps 'Seven Dwarves' were not living people at all, but the name of an Inn, a farm, a village. King Dubhán had lapped up this story, and now wished to search all nearby villages for this invented location.

Cecilia once again entered the dark forest of Leicothé. She was disguised again as an old woman, but much older than the first; an ancient woman would have been more accurate. Hunched over almost double in a grimy brown cloak, leaning heavily on a knobbly walking stick, Cecilia was the picture of age and frailty.

Cradling the basket of apples in her left arm, Cecilia knocked on the cottage door. Through the kitchen window, Snow White called,

"I'm sorry, but I cannot let anyone in,"

Making sure her basket was in full view of the window; she called in a rasping voice,

"That's quite all right, my dear, I will have no trouble selling these lovely apples. Here, I will give you the most delicious one,"

She picked up the poisoned apple in a magically aged hand and held it up to the open window.

"Oh, I am sorry, but I dare not take a thing,"

Cecilia gave a scratchy chuckle "Oh my love, are you afraid it is poisoned? Well here, I will eat a piece,"

She pulled a pen-knife from her cloak and sliced the apple in half. She then bit carefully into the white half of the apple. Snow White visibly relaxed, and happily took the red half of the apple from Cecilia's outstretched hand. She took a large bite from the poisoned half, smiling, and for a few moments nothing happened. Cecilia had just begun to wonder if the poison had worked at all when Snow White began to choke and gag. Cecilia smiled and pulled down her hood, and Snow White saw that she had again been tricked.

"You silly, gullible girl," Cecilia told Snow White's motionless body, and she left the cottage of the seven dwarves for the last time.

When she had returned to her bed chamber, she asked the Enchanted Mirror,

"Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall,  
Who in this land is the fairest of all?"

And at last, the mirror told her,

"Thou, o Queen, art the fairest of all."

Cecilia felt as though her torment was over. She could at last feel safe, feel secure. Everything was as it should be.

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OR IS IT?! DUN DUN DUUUUUN. Haha, I know nobody's going to read this, which is why I'm being so stupid in these little notes.


	9. Chapter 9

When King Dubhán heard the new message of the mirror, he assumed that Snow White had died. His life was shattered; he had lost the only two people he had ever loved. He talked to no one and some days would not leave his bed at all, which left much of running the kingdom to Cecilia.

For almost a year this was the case, and Cecilia became even lower in spirits than when Dubhán had been hitting her.

Then one day, the mirror again betrayed Cecilia.

"Looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall,  
Who in this land is the fairest of all?"

Cecilia still asked the mirror; not from vanity, or even for Dubhán, who had long since lost interest in anything Cecilia did. Cecilia merely did it from habit, and the fear that something bad would happen if she broke the pattern.

"Oh, queen, of all here the fairest art thou,  
But the young Queen is fairer by far as I trow."

The Enchanted Mirror called. Cecilia was shocked; which young Queen was this? The mirror seemed to be purposely mysterious.

Soon, Cecilia was hearing talk of this Queen from all corners of the palace; she was to marry the King of a Kingdom not far from Leicothé, and all high-class families were invited. Cecilia could not suppress her curiosity, and on the day of the mysterious Queen's wedding she arrived at their reception on her own (apart from a few servants), the King refusing to leave his room. The reception was taking place in a grand marble dance hall, and as Cecilia stepped inside in a beautiful green gown, all chatter ceased and all eyes turned to her.

Cecilia looked around, confused; she was only a little late, why were they making such a fuss? She looked up to the top of the hall and the thrones, at which sat the newly wed King and Queen. Even from such a distance, Cecilia recognised the young Queen at once; Snow White.

Cecilia bolted for the door, but too late; two bulky servants grabbed her arms and she could do little but struggle. A fire blazed in a grate not ten feet from her, and a man stepped toward it, carrying in his arms a long metal pole. On the end of this pole were two iron shoes, which he sat in the grate until they were bright red from the heat. He then placed the shoes on the floor, and Cecilia, though she resisted with all her strength, was forced to put them on her own feet.

Her screams echoed around the hall, so loud and so painful many guests had to cover their ears.

"Dance, you evil, wicked woman!" Snow White spat at her.

Cecilia was forced to dance; each time she stumbled and began to fall she was pushed up again, and prodded with red hot pokers. Finally she collapsed on the marble floor and could not be forced to stand any longer. Her breath was ragged and shallow; her feet were burnt beyond repair.

"I hope your death is slow and painful," Snow White whispered in her ear, and then she called all the guests to leave, and Cecilia was alone.

In her last moments, with her sight failing, Cecilia felt around her neck. She found again the necklace that she had never taken off; the necklace given to her by Alvern.

"Oh Alvern, what am I? I hope I see you soon, wherever it is that I am going…though perhaps it is best if I don't…I am not Cecilia any more…not your Cecilia…I am a monster!" She whispered to herself. She could feel herself begin to cry.

"Why did you leave me, Alvern? Why did you let me become this…why…" But Cecilia said no more, and she died there, alone on the cold, stone floor of Snow White's palace.

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So, the end. Very angsty. And not all that good. If you actually made it to the end, then...congratulations! You win the star prize! My apologies!


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